Specters
by Peacebunnie
Summary: There is punishment for those who fail the will of the gods. Hiko and the results of being not quite fast enough.
1. The Beginning

I know, it's not Merciful Dreams, I'm sorry. But the mildly-creepy bug bit me earlier, and I ended up finishing this before and after work today.

This is a very strange continuation of mswyrr's 'Specter', a short what-if fic supposing Hiko did not end up at the bandit attack in time, and thus among the bodies he buried was a small red haired boy.

Rurouni Kenshin is not owned by me; I think we all have figured this out.

* * *

_There is punishment for those who fail the will of the gods._

Specters

* * *

The specters started three days later.

In the dark he awoke, the piercing scream tightening his hand around his sheathed blade before he could locate the source of the sound. Beside him, curled up and sobbing as if he had seen death himself, was the red-haired little boy.

The child on the floor was transparent, but that was unimportant.

Unable to comprehend the entirety of the situation, Hiko knelt, dazedly following instinct. A child shouldn't be left to suffer.

Dropping the sword, he slowly reached for the child. The redhead seemed to see him and, still sobbing, held out his small hands, seeking comfort. Hiko leaned forward to scoop the boy into his arms, and the spirit dissolved before they could touch.

Frozen in the moment, not understanding, Hiko stared at the empty space.

Not knowing what else to do, Hiko picked up his sword, placed it beside his futon and went back to sleep.

In the morning, he remembered everything in startling detail. That the boy was no longer living suddenly hit him, hard, and he shuddered.

The next week of screaming nights was torture.

* * *

Several months passed before he saw the boy again. He was a little taller now, a little more filled out, and standing in a ready position that was easy to see through the spray of the waterfall and had startled Hiko out of his kata.

The boy charged at him, and was thrown back by an unseen blow before he was close. Hiko watched as the boy readied himself and tried again, only to be thrown back. Midway through a third failed attempt, he vanished, never hitting water.

Hiko stared a little longer, then turned and left.

* * *

Biting back a sigh, Hiko sat, taking in the last rays of sunset as he sipped his sake. No matter how he tried to ignore the boy, the quiet whirrrr-thud of a translucent wooden top kept stabbing at his senses and had driven him outside.

His ears pricked up yet again as a new noise started; the clattering of someone into the storage chest. Despite himself, he peered over his shoulder into the house. Nothing was moving except the boy, standing and crossing to look at someone not there.

The boy was saying something; Hiko turned away to keep the sounds at a murmur.

I AM NOT SHORT YOU'RE JUST TOO TALL! Came the scream. Hiko nearly fell off his seat, and sloshed the last of his sake over his hand.

Momentarily, the boy came running out the door, headed towards the woods with a bucket in hand. The scowl on his face changed to a smile as he passed Hiko, and when the boy hit the edge of the clearing he began running. He was soon out of sight.

Hiko shuddered, and went inside for more sake.

* * *

Adjusting the sack slung over his shoulder, Hiko continued up the mountain. In an effort to have time to himself, he'd risen early, arriving in the closest small town just as the shops were opening.

Tempted to reach for his new bottle of sake, he stopped himself; it would be even sweeter once he'd returned home.

Shishou, what are we getting?

Hiko's head rose quickly to look up the path. The waif like redhead was nearly skipping downhill, trying to keep pace and looking to his side. Hiko's mood soured as the boy frowned.

That's not very much.

"I can't get much when you're too much of a runt to carry anything," Hiko muttered as the spirit went past him.

Am not! The last ghostly phrase floated back.

* * *

Hiko had checked, and the boy was practicing by the waterfall. He had some time to indulge his new hobby.

He was just carrying the clay and his tools outside when the boy returned, shivering and wet, dripping water that never soaked the ground.

The boy reached out his hands and grabbed as if to catch something; a towel appeared in his grasp. He wiped his face, then wrapped himself in it, trying to get warm. The boy opened his mouth to say something, but scrunched his face and ducked.

Hiko threw down his supplies in disgust as the boy swore he'd get it right next time, really.

* * *

How can you stay on your mountain and do nothing? Don't you care about the people? DON'T YOU CARE AT ALL?!

Hiko glared at the boy, who yelled toward the far corner of the room.

WHAT IS HITEN MITSURUGI FOR IF NOT TO HELP OTHERS!

Hiko pulled his blanket over his ears, and wished the kid would shut up.

* * *

The next day, the boy left.

Maybe now he could get some quiet.


	2. The Middle

The air around the trees went quiet, raising the hair on the back of his neck; Hiko straightened, setting down his sake, knowing what was there. Regretting his loss of peace yet oddly curious after all this time, he stood from his log bench, turning to look behind.

And there was the boy, coming up the barely worn path, head bowed. Though he wasn't a boy, anymore, after the long years - he'd filled out into a sturdy man, if a small and slender one. His steps were weighed with guilt, and as he came closer, he reached for his sword.

Hiko watched, unmoving, as the boy loosed his blade and swung; the sword swept at him, the end dissolving where it should have hit and reforming when it passed.

The boy turned, addressing a point near the path he'd just trod.

Hiko Seijuro is no mere potter.

His voice. Deeper but unmistakably his. At the realization that he'd missed hearing the boy, Hiko became distinctly uncomfortable.

It's been a long time, Shishou.

A touch of hesitance, there. As well there should be, the little brat.

Slowly, the redhead entered the house; somewhat intrigued, Hiko followed.

And heard quite the tale.

* * *

For several days the sound of fighting had rung throughout the mountaintop. And it had finally come to this.

He'd never get the technique, Hiko thought, staring at the boy in front of him. He's been using Hiten Mitsurugi correctly at last, but he doesn't have the will to live. He grieves.

One hand flew to his face, cradling his forehead. The boy was dead. He was dead. Shaking his head, Hiko tried to rid himself of the scattered thoughts.

Hiko frowned, watching the boy go flying back.

"Stupid, I would've already told you. Hiten Mitsurugi is to protect lives. That includes you, moron."

But he remained, watching the flow of emotion across the boy's face until the boy started muttering about Kuzu Ryu Sen. Then he whirled and went inside.

* * *

SHISHOU!

It was strange, Hiko thought, to stand by his perfectly still shelves yet watch them fall in front of him.

Then, a new thought: the boy was leaping with joy.

Interesting.

* * *

Several years later, Hiko spotted a patch of red through the trees. Tensing, he tracked it, watching as it came up the path.

As it came closer, it resolved into the boy, this time carrying a small child warmly wrapped. The child seemed loud and animated, though Hiko couldn't hear a thing. By the child's hair and face, it was clear it was the boy's son.

Hiko stared, unable to turn away, as the boy laughed softly at his child, then turned a brilliant smile towards Hiko's door.

Hello, Shishou. I'd like you to meet Kenji.

The next day Hiko sold his pottery, packed his things and left. Enough was enough.


	3. The End

Ducking a bit, Hiko stepped into the restaurant. Glancing around, all seemed normal, with the exception of one unusual fellow his ki sense insisted wasn't there. Intrigued by the solidity of this particular 'specter', Hiko strode to the booth.

"It's odd to see someone like you here."

The young man looked up at him, smiling brightly.

"Ah, really? Sorry." He laughed, eyes closing and smile ever on his face.

Hiko raised an eyebrow.

"Passing through are you?"

The young man still smiled, but a sad note entered his voice.

"I suppose. I used to follow my master, but he was killed and his dream died with him."

Hiko slid into the booth across from the young man.

"Such is the way of the world; the strong abuse their power and act indiscriminately. Few have the inner strength to act upright."

"Really?" The young man tilted his head, studying him for a moment. They were interrupted by a waitress; Hiko ordered a drink as the young man's meal arrived.

They took their refreshments in silence. When he finished his sake, Hiko tossed some coins on the table and strode for the door, nodding once to the young man as he left.


End file.
